Blowing out the cobwebs is certainly a common phrase for a reason. The wind here of a morning wakes you up like nothing else, it is chill, a sore wind that makes the temperature plummet to the minuses it wouldn’t dare to be otherwise. 5˚C but feels like -15˚C. I thought that after years of living by the sea, and then not, I’d either be used to it, or I wouldn’t feel it as much. We are nowhere near the sea here, the firth is closest but still 10 or so miles away. Alas the wind still cuts through me like an Aberdeen morning, an East Neuk night or a Beinn à Ghlo winters afternoon. Harsh. Slicing your flesh open and stinging inside, eyes watering like condensation on the inside of my window. Constant.
Yet like HDT says, there is no contagion that it can’t stop. Feel the illness blast out of you, perhaps as new ones are brought in its icy grip. Warm winds are not really a thing here. Maybe there is Gulf Stream winds on the west coast or islands, I don’t know but there is certainly none of that here. We just get the shitty stuff from the Baltic. Out of all the places I’ve lived, this street is the windiest of them all. And I don’t know the reason for that. We should grow big pines at the end of the grass.